Two moons
by Nocturnus
Summary: A serie of 3 vignettes center on RL
1. Default Chapter

  
  
In all these years of dealing with evil, there are some soft memories he treasures dearly.  
  
So many shadows surround him: Betrayal, death, sometimes hunger, and the worst: that constant battle against the dark. He feels exhausted.  
  
When the beast gains his soul, round silver moon menacing him, during the harsh moments of his transformation, another Moon comes to warm him. When stripped from his humanity, the memory of her big round eyes is the only thing that holds him.  
  
Luna. His Luna.  
  
She who had seen him. No prejudices. Just warm openness.  
  
Tomorrow, he swore, tomorrow he will go and talk to her.  
  
He only hopes to have the nerve. 


	2. Naked

"His language is naked", she thought, and perhaps it was.  
  
No futile words.  
  
The girls just don't get it.  
  
It was the economy of his language that pulled her to him. Few words were necessary when they sat together. A quiet understanding.  
  
They had started to tease her. Ginny being the worst, asking her to seduce him, trying to encourage Luna to flirt.  
  
But it felt wrong.   
  
They dressed her up, combing her hair, using tons of cosmetics on her face. They told her she would charm him.  
  
Lent clothing felt oddly wrong.  
  
Luna didn't like that kind of magic, she was fond of what they had.  
  
She wants to meet him in the nude, as simple as their relationship is.  
  
Not wanting to hurt their friends' feelings, she had run to the forest before taking her clothes off.  
  
She had always been welcome in the woods. Creatures share their secrets with Luna, recognizing her as one of their own. Even the centaurs bow their heads in recognition.  
  
As the trees came into sight blue shoes were lost in the lawn.  
  
Her bare feet felt the dampness of the fresh herbs.  
  
Her hair lace hung freely from a tree, dancing at the wind.  
  
Later the silky strands of her dress were part of the robin's nest.  
  
Dryads and Naiads came to enfold her. Washing her face with clear water.   
  
As it ran through her body, a delicate translucent cloth was create.  
  
Dryads and Naiads had invested her with their sister's robes.  
  
Plain, simple, pure.  
  
"His language is naked", she thought as she waited for Remus. Just as her love.


	3. Bluebells

b Title: /b Bluebells.

A responce to 30minutefics challenge 47

Thanks to KnisghtsofSwords for betawork.

"Luna?" The man in dress robes steps to her shyly.

"What is it, cub?" she responds.

_Gosh, she looks breathtaking, sitting in the garden, surrounded_ _by wild flowers. _

"What are you doing here?" he asks tentatively, as if expecting to be rejected.

"Picking flowers," she turns to him with a honest smile. "Aren't they pretty?" she says dreamily. "They will look lovely on my wedding dress." She covers her mouth in regret. "Oops. You weren't supposed to know that, were you?"

"Oh, thank God, you are all right."

Remus sits next to her and enfolds her in a tight embrace, relief showing in his features.

"So," he asks after a while, "you still want to marry me?"

"Of course I want to, silly." She kisses him, shaking her head in annoyance. "We've gone through the '_marry a werewolf_' discussion a thousand times."

"Yes but..."

"No buts, cub. "You hurt me. You know I'm through that social silliness."

"I know..."

"You don't trust my love?"

"No, it's..."

"The age, I know. You are not my professor; besides, Mum and Dad used to have the same age difference. I'm 22. I'm not a baby anymore!"

She picks a leaf of grass and parts it into two halves.

"You just don't trust in what we have," she sighs tiredly, "or is it the job? Don't you like the Quibbler?"

He chuckles softly. Luna could feel the vibrations in her chest.

"This is not funny" she whispers sadly.

"Yes, it is" He just can't stop laughing, almost hysterically. This is why he loves her. Always ethereal, admiring the beauty of tiny bluebells, straying away from her path to savour life.

He takes her hands softly, inviting her to stand up. Little strands of herbs are fixed in her hair.

Kissing her forehead, he asks, "Could we apparate now to our ceremony? Albus is waiting for us, love."


	4. Taste of hope

**Title:**

The taste of hope

**Pairings:** Luna/Remus  
**Rating: **PG  
**Author's Note:**

I was raised in a dictatorship, and grew to see how our former consequent youth had turn into selfish yuppies during democracy. The snakes and the lambs now cohabited peacefully.

Talked about the dead one is old fashioned because we need to move on. At least is what they say.

Answer to 30minutefics challenge.

_You taste of poetry, my only hope in this land of captive leaves. _

Remus Lupin put away the photograph. It had been folded so many times, in and out of his wallet. Luna's word write for him the night before the battle. Her dreamy eyes so alive.

All has been shattered in tiny pieces.

Like autumn dust.

"...But you tasted of poetry and hope".

She had gave her life as so many others. A promise of a new world to came. They had defeat Voldemort, true. What for?

He felt guilty for wanting those times to come. There were fellows with a cause.

Now, well, the death ones were just humus: Minerva, Neville, Hermione, so many of them.

The memorial service has finish. He turned his attention to Potter's figure, and clap politely. He still find strange to see him like that.

His perfectly comb hair, his formal robes, the manners of a winner man.

When did he left his impulsiveness for those correct manners?. He listen to everybody as if he really cares, and laugh to the boring chatter of some old pureblooded woman... The golden boy.

To his right was Malfoy with the Weasley's, the most select of our youth. Every now and then the Dailys Prophet would make an article praising what they call "the dragon generation". The former youth that not only had battle bravely but saved wizard economy by converting all the system into a neo capitalist one. Now liberty means money, and justice is a taxes thing.

In a corner, Albus walks slowly helped by Severus. Who would had think of it? The three of them, discard by the ones they taught.

_Our world had dyed with Voldemort too_. Comment Severus dryly. Albus only pat his hand.

"_Oh, Luna, my Luna" _he sighed_ "Where is the taste of poetry and hope_?"


End file.
